


Mischief and Malice

by CosmoKid



Series: Aurora's Colors [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode AU: s02e12 Master Plan, Gen, Loki is Stiles' Godfather, Magical Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoKid/pseuds/CosmoKid
Summary: There’s darkness everywhere when it happens. It’s closing in on him, suffocating him. The only thing he can hear is the humming of the generator as everything fades to black.Just as he feels his eyelids close, he sees a luminescent green light and hears a familiar voice, “Rest my child.”In which Stiles is the Godson of Loki and after a brief catchup under the Northern Lights, Gerard really stands no chance against a Child of Mischief.





	Mischief and Malice

Everything hurts.

His ribs, his lip, his legs, his shoulder, his pride. He can’t see out of one eye and the coppery taste of blood is filling his mouth. There’s part of his tooth stuck somewhere in his throat.

Still, he glares up at Gerard and his henchman. He doesn’t care anymore. He spits his own blood at them, biting and kicking at them to get them away. He just wants them to leave him alone. Let him rest for a moment. He’s in an onslaught of pain and hurt; each punch feeling like they hit with the force of a tidal wave. He sways, the world spinning even as he’s on his knees.

He wants to call out to Erica and Boyd, or even to Gerard but his voice is too hoarse and his throat too dry. He just wants it to stop so he can die in peace. 

The information they want has never been in his brain. He’s not important enough to keep alive. He just wants it all to stop.

His head whips to the side, the force of Gerard’s cane sending him to the ground. His skull bounces off the concrete. It’s rough and hard, but he curls up on it, trying to weakly protect himself from any further attacks.

There’s darkness everywhere when it happens. It’s closing in on him, suffocating him. The only thing he can hear is the humming of the generator as everything fades to black.

Just as he feels his eyelids close, he sees a luminescent green light and hears a familiar voice, “Rest my child.”

* * *

The sky is green when he wakes up, almost the color of Lydia’s eyes.

He blinks, sitting up on softer ground than he remembers. His eyebrows furrow; he wasn’t outside earlier. He grabs at the grass around him and stares up at the swirls of green illuminating the dark sky. That certainly does not look like the Northern Californian sky. 

“I thought you might like it,” a soft voice says behind him. He turns his head slowly as if to not cause any more pain, but nothing seems to hurt. 

“Uncle Loki?” he asks in a distant voice as he stares at the man. 

“Kjetil,” Loki greets him, walking around him to offer him a hand up. He takes it cautiously and watches the emerald cape blowing in the wind behind him. “I feel a necessity to tell you immediately that there is no need for you to throw your shoe at me. I _am_ here.”

Stiles lets Loki pull him up almost in a trance, but he still blushes at the memory even if not aware of it really. “Am I dead?”

“Of course not, young Stiles. I couldn’t let my Godson die barely in his youth,” Loki says and rolls his eyes as if what Stiles is saying is preposterous. As if magically being transported to God knows where for a conversation with a God is something that always happens when you’re being tortured by werewolf hunters.

“I’m 16,” he protests weakly, too busy looking at the area around them. It’s beautiful, rolling fields of lush grass, tall trees towering over them, and the beautiful lights in the sky above. “Where are we?”

“Norway,” Loki tells him and wraps an arm around him. He tenses for a second before relaxing into the embrace. “You never have been home, have you?”

He bites his lip. Beacon Hills is his home even if it’s not that welcoming right now. He knows Norway isn’t home depiste feeling oddly settled here. He chews on his lip for a few moments more before murmuring, “Mom always wanted to bring me.”

“Of course,” Loki says and bows his head. Stiles regards him for a few seconds, wondering what’s so important about right now.

“I’d ask how I’m here, but you’re a God so it’s a stupid question. _Why_ am I here?” he asks, looking back up at the lights. They’re exquisite. 

“Come now, Stiles. That’s also a stupid question,” Loki tells him and guides him downhill a little where a small lake comes into view. The lights are reflected on the surface of it. “You could control them, you know.”

“Are you aware that your idiolect makes literally no sense? You flip between royal family and a normal human being like you're flipping pancakes or something and never acknowledge it. Almost like how you’re not acknowledging how right now has to be important if you suddenly show up after two years of radio silence to whisk me away to Norway and how knowing why I’m here might be useful,” he says, a bitter taste on his tongue. He looks up at his Godfather who seems unaffected, as always. “Besides, I’d never have that much power.”

“You’re wrong there, Stiles. You’ve always had that much power, and yet you allow yourself to be beaten by an old man with a cane or a simple shapeshifter,” Loki shoots back as soon as the last word is out of Stiles’ mouth.

He can’t help looking away, staring down at the lake. “I haven’t been able to access any of it since Mom died.”

The confession makes his heart wrench for his Mother, wishing she was there to hug him and tell him that everything will be okay. He wishes she was there to bake him cookies and clumsily fight the monster under the bed with a broom handle. He wants her to sing him lullabies and tell him all the bedtime stories where the hero never loses and the monster goes away after the battle.

“I know, my child,” Loki murmurs and Stiles is shocked to hear actual pain in his voice. “You blame yourself for too much.”

The first thing he thinks of is too hard to say, even after two years so he just sighs and tries not to think of it. “If I hadn’t asked Scott to come with me into the woods, he’d never had been turned.”

“That’s bullshit. That crazed alpha wasn’t looking to bite Scott in particular, he would have bit whoever he would have found first which could have just as easily been you,” Loki tells him, rolling his eyes at Stiles again. “Besides, Scott chose to come with you and you both should acknowledge his ability to say no. And anyway, you can’t say it hasn’t had its benefits. A supernatural cure for asthma is as good of a cure as anything.”

He bites his lip, having no real way to argue back. “Were you watching me and Scott?” he asks instead.

“I have Heimdall watch over you. Scott is just almost always around,” Loki says casually as if the all-seeing, all-hearing guardian sentry of Asgard watching him specifically is normal. He blinks, failing to process it. “When he has the time, of course. I have to wonder how much you did that I missed.”

Stiles ignores the obvious innuendo to ask a genuine question, “Are things not good on Asgard?”

“It appears that we have our own cold war with Jotunheim. Laufey’s spies are particularly skilled at infiltrating our palace and my brother still holds the belief that everything can be solved with brute force,” Loki tells him and Stiles gets the impression that it’s not the full story. He doesn’t press the matter; he knows his Godfather well enough not to.

“Thor’s like Scott. A few swords short of an armory, but at least they’re trying,” he says in a light voice, hesitantly resting his head on Loki’s shoulder. To his surprise, he’s not shaken off.

“And yet you don’t appear to be,” Loki murmurs and Stiles just closes his eyes as the realization of what Loki brought him here for sets in.

“I have nothing to give, not power or information,” he says, trying to defend himself in some way. It’s most definitely ineffective. 

“You’ll never have nothing to give, my child,” Loki tells him in an earnest voice. Stiles opens his eyes and looks up at the lights again which appear to be moving in the sky. “The life of a child of mischief is never an easy one, but to give up would mean it’s all for nothing. If you give up now, you’ll never find out who A is on Pretty Little Liars, and you’ll never get to play your first lacrosse game and I am not missing my Godson’s first lacrosse match. It is better to stand and fight than to die tired. You’re not to give up.”

He blinks. The lights seem to be coming toward him now. It feels like everything is fading away like this wasn’t real. The lights are still there, paler now, like Derek’s eyes.

* * *

Cold water shocks him awake and he glares up at whoever threw it. It’s surprisingly easy to keep the glare angry as he comes to. He’s in the basement still, but the presence of weakness is gone. The chaos is running through his veins, mischief burning inside him.

He grins. He’s going to enjoy this. 

Taking a deep breath, he blocks out the crude remarks of his attackers and focusses on creating an illusion. He hasn’t done this in years and knows he should be a little rusty. Yet he’s not. The illusion is almost simple to weave into existence and even teleporting behind them is easy to do. His smile becomes impossibly wide as Gerard attempts to hit him with the cane again, but it just goes through the illusion. 

“You didn’t really think you could beat a child of mischief that easily, did you?” he asks his attackers innocently who all slowly turn around to face him. He winks before unleashing an energy blast and relishing in the rush of power.

It’s mild enough not to permanently harm or destroy any of them, but they’re all be out for a while. He feels his dagger appear in his hand, but he can’t bring himself to use it.

“Stiles!” He spins around when Erica calls out to him and rushes over to the two werewolves. “What the hell was that?”

“Long story, including a brief trip to Norway, an ancient family blessing and possibly harnessing the power of the Northern Lights,” he tells them almost breathlessly. He cuts away their bindings and takes a hold of them both as he focuses on teleporting them to wherever his jeep is. “I’ll explain later, but for now, we need to find Jackson and be the eleventh-hour saviors.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://cosmo-k-i-d.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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